


Decisions

by TrueIllusion



Series: Changed [5]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Disability, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, POV Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Physical Disability, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 17:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15645177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Justin had often wondered what might have been if he had chosen to stay in Pittsburgh rather than moving to New York last year. If he and Brian had moved into the mansion in West Virginia together as husbands. Now that he knew what had happened to Brian as he was driving back to Pittsburgh after selling that house -- the house in which they were supposed to begin a new chapter in their lives as spouses -- Justin felt a slight sense of responsibility for Brian’s accident. Like somehow this life-changing event could be traced back to their mutual decision that it would be best not to get married, and for Justin to move to New York to pursue a career as an artist. The dominoes had been set in motion in that moment, with that decision. The chapter they were supposed to have written together was replaced by two separate chapters, neither as good as Justin felt the original would have been. Brian’s chapter certainly had quite the plot twist.





	Decisions

_“I don’t want to be with someone who sacrificed their life and called it love...to be with me.”_

*****

On a Sunday afternoon in January, Justin Taylor stood in an airport terminal at JFK, watching to make sure Brian got through security okay. He wasn’t even sure why he felt compelled to do that, but he hung back and tried to stay out of sight while he observed, until they pulled Brian aside and out of his view. Justin had wondered how all of that worked for Brian now, since he knew the metal detectors would essentially be useless for screening someone sitting in a wheelchair made of metal. He’d never gotten Brian to talk about what Friday’s plane trip had been like, other than to say it was “interesting,” and he didn’t want to talk about it, so it remained one of Justin’s many curiosities about Brian’s life now that he was too embarrassed to ask about.

Just a few minutes before, once Brian had checked his bag and gotten his boarding pass, they’d shared a passionate kiss, either trying to make up for lost time or for the time they’d be missing in the future -- Justin wasn’t sure which, and he didn’t really care. Then they had to part once again, going their separate ways back to their separate homes and separate lives.

Justin had often wondered what might have been if he had chosen to stay in Pittsburgh rather than moving to New York last year. If he and Brian had moved into the mansion in West Virginia together as husbands. Now that he knew what had happened to Brian as he was driving back to Pittsburgh after selling that house -- the house in which they were supposed to begin a new chapter in their lives as spouses -- Justin felt a slight sense of responsibility for Brian’s accident. Like somehow this life-changing event could be traced back to their mutual decision that it would be best not to get married, and for Justin to move to New York to pursue a career as an artist. The dominoes had been set in motion in that moment, with that decision. The chapter they were supposed to have written together was replaced by two separate chapters, neither as good as Justin felt the original would have been. Brian’s chapter certainly had quite the plot twist.

He hadn’t been able to get Brian to tell him much about the time immediately after the accident. Brian didn’t really seem to want to think about it, much less talk about it, which didn’t surprise Justin at all, given how their dynamic had been right after the bashing. Back then, Justin had wanted and needed to talk about it and discuss his feelings about it, so he could process what had happened to him. But talking about it with Brian was off the table. Justin knew that Brian had been deeply affected by what happened on prom night as well, and he tried to respect that it was painful for Brian to think about it because he had witnessed it all and lived through the fear of not knowing if Justin would live or die. But in the end, Justin felt it would have helped them both if they’d been able to speak about it more openly.

Instead, Brian’s mantra was always, “try not to think about it.” It seemed that had become Brian’s policy regarding his accident as well, at least to the extent that one could compartmentalize a disability that affects almost every aspect of your life and the way you move through the world. He just hoped that Brian wasn’t going to experience the sudden, explosive resurgence of anger and desire for vengeance that Justin had when he’d joined the Pink Posse and came uncomfortably close to making the biggest mistake of his life, in the name of revenge.

Prior to that, the biggest mistake of his life had been leaving Brian for Ethan. Now, looking back, he could see that he’d been so wrapped up in his own romantic fantasy of what he thought love should be, that he’d completely ignored Brian’s needs and desires, which should have been of equal importance to him. They hadn’t been, though -- all Justin wanted was a perfect love story worthy of a romance novel, and Brian hadn’t been willing to play the part.

So Justin had run off to Ethan in search of his fairy tale, and it didn’t take long for his supposed great love story to end in tragedy, with a side of anger and frustration. All because Justin didn’t think Brian was doing enough to show he loved him -- because Brian’s ways of expressing love weren’t the same as the ones in romance novels. But that didn’t mean they weren’t just as sincere. Maybe even more so, given that they came from a man who had once told him point-blank that he didn’t believe in love. Justin knew now that Brian loved him, even if he didn’t say it out loud very often. He’d heard Brian say the words, but he still found that Brian usually preferred to let his actions speak more loudly.

Now, he was wondering if the biggest mistake of his life hadn’t been moving to New York and leaving Brian behind.

Justin continued standing in the terminal lobby for the next fifteen minutes, until he saw Brian emerge from an area he couldn’t see, looking a little irritated, and presumably head off in the direction of his gate, oblivious to the fact that Justin was still there at all.

As Justin turned to walk back toward the airport train station where he could transfer to the subway, he wished that Brian could have stayed longer, or that he could have accompanied him back to Pittsburgh. It hadn’t been nearly this difficult to be apart when they hadn’t seen each other for months, but now that they’d seen each other twice in one month, Justin hated the idea of sleeping alone in his bed in the apartment he shared with Daphne’s friend.

The subway ride back to the East Village was long, which gave Justin plenty of time to think about what a wonderful weekend this had been.

He remembered being confused and a bit worried when his cell phone rang and Brian’s number lit up the display -- it was Friday, and they had just talked on Wednesday morning, so this definitely wasn’t their usual weekly call. His heart started pounding and his hands were shaking a little as he flipped open the phone and answered it, fearing that something was wrong with Brian or with another member of the family. But he decided to answer the phone with a jovial tone to cover his nervousness, as if that might ward off any bad news that was about to come forth: “Hey, old man, did you forget what day it is?”

Brian hadn’t forgotten what day it was at all. He told Justin that he just wanted to talk to him, then asked if he was home and told him he might want to come outside. Fear was replaced with confusion as Justin left the apartment, shut the door, and continued down the stairwell, where Brian hung up on him when he was about halfway down. What the fuck was going on?

The second he hit the landing at the bottom of the steps on the first floor and looked out the large window that took up the top half of the door, confusion became elation. He couldn’t get out the door and into Brian’s arm’s fast enough. He hugged Brian so fiercely that he almost knocked him over backward and had to quickly get ahold of himself and shift them both back upright so they wouldn’t end up sprawled out in the middle of the sidewalk.

He’d been embarrassed at not being able to invite Brian inside, because there were fucking steps everywhere in this building, and to be honest, he was sick of walking up and down them himself. But Brian seemed to shrug it off and invited Justin to stay with him in his hotel room -- an invitation that Justin was happy to accept.

The first night in the hotel, Brian hadn’t exactly been 100% himself. Sometimes he was, but once they’d showered and settled in for the night, he’d gotten quiet, and Justin suspected he was in pain but wasn’t going to say anything about it. He’d noticed Brian’s left leg shaking a little against his own just after they got in bed, but neither of them mentioned it. Justin wrote it off as one of the muscle spasms Brian had mentioned when he was listing off everything that was unpleasant about his current condition, on their first night together in Brian’s apartment.

Justin had been furtively watching Brian’s face shift between discomfort and exhaustion for 30 minutes as they watched the news, when he decided to turn off the TV and try to do something to make Brian feel good. However, it ultimately ended in Brian turning the tables on him and sucking Justin off instead. It was amazing, as always, but Justin was wishing that Brian hadn’t flipped over on top of him, stopping him from doing what he wanted to do for his lover -- his partner.

They’d spent some time during the Christmas holiday working their way through being intimate together again, which had been great for him, and he hoped it had been great for Brian as well, although again, he couldn’t get Brian to talk about it. Justin had more he wanted to try, but Brian had stopped him short, as if he was embarrassed. Justin wished he could do something to take away that feeling and reassure Brian that he was up for experimenting, and that sometimes failure was a necessary part of finding solutions. As usual, though, Brian wasn’t leaving any room for failure.

The pair had all day Saturday to spend together, and they’d wanted to spend it enjoying the city. After breakfast at the restaurant on the ground floor of Brian’s hotel, they’d headed out to Central Park, where they ended up sitting together on a bench at Strawberry Fields for a long time, listening to a man singing Beatles songs while he strummed a guitar. Colorful flowers had been strategically placed around the “Imagine” mosaic in the center of the circle of benches. Everything seemed so vibrant there, while at the same time full of reverence and reflection. It made Justin want to go home and paint, to create something of his own, but it would have to wait. His time with Brian was limited, and that made it precious.

They leaned into each other on the bench, their arms and hands intertwined, with Brian’s empty wheelchair beside them. Justin wondered if sitting on the hard surface for so long was really the smartest decision for Brian, but he knew better than to express his concern. Since Brian wouldn’t tell him much about what he needed now, beyond the frustrations he’d unloaded on Justin on Christmas Day, Justin had done some research on his own. Brian hadn’t called him a public service announcement the night they met for nothing -- Justin was always soaking up trivial, often useless knowledge about things.

His curiosity had gotten the best of him after he’d come home from his holiday visit, and he’d learned quite a bit thanks to the magic of the internet, although he was too nervous to actually use much, if any, of what he’d learned, because he knew Brian. Justin was well-acquainted enough with the Kinney Operating Manual to know that if let on that he knew too much or was worried about anything, Brian would probably start pushing him away. Justin had seen him do it with Michael more than once on Christmas Eve at Debbie’s -- prying his glass out of Michael’s hand in the kitchen before nestling it between his thighs to transport into the living room himself, and shooting death glares at Michael any time he even looked like he wanted to get up and get something for Brian or otherwise offer any sort of assistance.

After they left Strawberry Fields, Justin and Brian spent some time wandering the many pathways that wound their way through the park, chatting as they went. Justin noticed that Brian was quite skilled at maneuvering his chair down the path and around obstacles or people who stopped to talk or look around; he made it look easy, although Justin was sure it probably wasn’t. New habits, he guessed -- Justin knew all about that, from having to retrain his right hand after the bashing. He still favored his left on many tasks that didn’t require the use of his dominant hand, just out of habit, even though his hand had been mostly okay for a long time, as long as he wasn’t trying to hold a pencil or a pen for too long. Justin fell into step beside Brian, letting him lead and set the pace. They were just two lovers taking a weekend stroll through Central Park, albeit slightly unconventional.

Soon, two hours had passed, although it felt like no time at all. Justin’s stomach began to make itself known, and he suggested grabbing some lunch at a nearby deli. They ordered sandwiches at the counter, and Brian insisted on paying. Justin was silently thankful because he was having a hard time making ends meet, but he didn’t want to admit that to Brian because he knew that would result in Brian trying to give him money, which he didn’t really want at this point. He felt like he needed to stand on his own two feet here, and not depend on Brian to bail him out all the time like he had been ever since his father had kicked him out of the house when he was 17.

They chose a table and moved one of the chairs out of the way so Brian could pull up to the table while they waited for their order number to be called at the counter. Justin watched as Brian pushed his palms down on the tires and lifted his body up, letting it hang for a few moments before settling back down. Pressure relief, Justin knew. Another new habit. He just wasn’t sure how to read the face Brian was making as he did it.

The pair ate their lunch and chatted a bit about the family -- Michael had been working on a story for a new issue of Rage that he wanted Justin to start some drawings for, Ted and Blake had gotten engaged on New Year’s Eve, and Emmett was up to his eyeballs in his party-planning business, which had become a smashing success. Deb was working herself too hard as usual, and Carl was trying unsuccessfully, as usual, to get her to slow down a bit and take care of herself for once instead of everybody else. Justin enjoyed catching up on the goings-on back home, even if it hadn’t been that long since he’d seen everyone in person.

But as they made small talk, Justin couldn’t quite turn his thoughts away from something he’d been pondering since Christmas: why Brian hadn’t been honest with him sooner. The more time he’d had to think about it, the more it upset him, although he was trying not to let Brian know that. Justin felt guilty feeling upset about it at all. Brian was the one who’d had his life turned completely upside down, not Justin. Justin felt like he didn’t really have a right to be mad about it, given that Brian was the one who had to live with it every day.

He understood what Brian had said before about why he hadn’t told him: Brian liked feeling normal, like nothing had changed, when they talked once a week. But Justin couldn’t shake the fact that he was upset that Brian hadn’t let him show up for him, support him, just fucking be there. He hadn’t given Justin the opportunity to be his partner through this experience, much like when he’d shut Justin out when he had cancer. Only this time, Justin couldn’t do what he knew was right in spite of what Brian thought, because he’d been kept completely in the dark.

Justin knew how desperately he had wanted Brian to be there when he was in the hospital after the bashing -- to actually be there, not just sneaking in at night to watch him sleep and swearing the nurses to secrecy. He knew what it would have meant to him to have Brian there when he was awake and aware. Why hadn’t Brian felt the same, and wanted Justin there for him?

About halfway through lunch, Justin decided he couldn’t skirt the issue any longer. He needed Brian to know how much he wanted to have been there, and how much it hurt him that he hadn’t been allowed to be, simply because he didn’t know.

“I wish you would have told me everything when we talked while you were in the hospital,” Justin said. “So I could have come home to be with you.”

“What for? There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have been there for you. Held your hand, if you wanted.”

Brian grunted and shook his head slightly as he looked down at his plate.

“Not that Brian Kinney would ever want such a thing,” Justin added quickly. Can’t forget the Kinney Operating Manual.

“I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

“I care about you. Sometimes worrying is part of that, and that’s okay.”

Brian sighed. “I fucked up my own life, Sunshine. There was no point in fucking yours up too. You needed to stay here and keep doing your thing, and not be distracted thinking about me.”

“Brian, I love you. You were hurt. I’m sure you were in a lot of pain. I know Michael was there for you, and I’m glad he could be… But I wish you would have given me an opportunity to be there for you too. You made the decision for both of us. You shut me out by not telling me.”

Brian looked down at his fingers as he played with his unused butter knife on the table. “I know,” he said softly. “I know I’m an idiot. I know I was a coward. Just a fuck-up all the way around.”

Justin reached his hand across the table and tilted Brian’s chin up to force him to make eye contact. “You are none of those things, so stop that right now. I’m not telling you this so you can beat yourself up. I’m telling you this because I honestly want to know why you didn’t want me there. Why you shut me out again like that, like we weren’t partners.”

Had they still been partners at that point? Justin wasn’t sure. And he was afraid to ask what Brian thought.

Brian closed his eyes and took a breath. “I told you at Christmas...I didn’t know how to tell you. How you’d look at me. And I just couldn’t take one more fucking person looking at me like, oh, poor Brian, look what happened to him. How tragic.”

“And I wouldn’t have done that, because I know exactly how it feels to have other people fawning over you, treating you like a baby, and trying to do too much to help you,” Justin said as he took Brian’s hand in his own. “I still would have wanted to be there for you, though.”

They were both quiet for a few moments before Brian spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“It’s not about what you can say...it’s about what you can do. You can let me in now.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Brian looked up at Justin, his eyebrows raised. “I let you stay at my apartment and sleep in my bed for four days over Christmas. Doesn’t that qualify as letting you back in? I want you back in. Hell, you’re already in.”

“I feel like there’s still a lot you’re not telling me, though. Things you don’t want to let me in on.” Justin paused, wondering if he should continue. Eventually he did. Fuck it. He wanted to be honest here, and he wanted Brian to be honest too. “Maybe because you don’t want to face them yourself.”

Justin had decided that was probably the most likely answer -- Brian had been shutting Justin out because he didn’t want to face the truth of any of this. And while Justin understood Brian’s desire for denial and ignoring the problem -- a recurring theme in the Kinney Operating Manual -- he was also frustrated with it because he felt like it was coming between them. Making Justin feel like Brian didn’t trust him completely.

Brian let out a loud exhale and shrugged as he laid the butter knife atop his plate and started gathering up dishes and napkins and piling them up.

“I’m just asking you to be honest with me, Brian. Tell me when you need something. What you need. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay all the time. Let me help you. I’m not doing it out of pity; I’m doing it out of love. Because I care about you.” Justin paused and took a deep breath. “Because I love you. I never stopped.”

Brian looked up at Justin and blinked a few times before he began to speak, his voice hushed and even. Measured. “Okay...I’m tired. I’m hurting. I left my pain medication at home because I haven’t needed it in weeks and didn’t think I would need it here. But I also didn’t think about sitting on an airplane or the fact that I’d be moving around more than I have since...I don’t know. I need to lie down. I don’t want to, because I want to spend the day in the city with you. But I need to. There. Not so fun, is it Sunshine? Not how things used to be.”

“Brian, I don’t care about that. This is part of your life now. I’m not just here for the pretty parts, okay? How many times did you take care of me when I was having panic attacks or freaking out in crowds or having flashbacks? I haven’t forgotten about that. Can you let me do the same for you?”

They’d gone back to the hotel without saying much, and climbed into bed together. Brian had flipped himself over onto his stomach. “To get off my ass for a while,” he’d said. It didn’t take long before Brian was snoring softly with his head turned toward Justin. The younger man gently wrapped an arm around his lover’s shoulders as he scooted himself closer, until their bodies were touching, and allowed his own eyes to drift shut.

“Love you,” he whispered as he slowly rubbed his thumb over the skin on Brian’s left shoulder. “Always.”

The subway train lurched to yet another stop, shaking Justin out of his daydream. He and Brian were making some headway in working their way back to where they’d been when they almost got married, but they still had a ways to go. Even so, Justin had no doubt they’d get through this storm just like they had all the others, and be even stronger for it.

Looking for a distraction, Justin headed into his tiny bedroom to work on a painting -- just a little something he’d started on Friday morning, without really knowing what it would turn out to be. It had started off a little dark and melancholy, but now he felt inspired to add in some brightness -- a happier tone to balance it out a bit. A reflection of how his mood had changed over the weekend. Before Brian, and after. If only he could stay in the after for longer. He lost himself in his painting for a while, as he was prone to do, and let a couple of hours pass.

Around 9:00, his cell phone rang. It was Brian.

“Hey. How was your flight?” Justin held the phone with his shoulder as he continued painting small strokes on the canvas.

He could hear Brian snort on the other end of the line. “Let’s not talk about handsy-ass flight attendants who don’t seem to accept that I can get into the seat my own damn self. Not like I don’t do that several times a day all on my own without their fucking hands grabbing me. At least the liquor was good.”

“Well, that’s something I guess.”

“Miss you already.”

“Yep.” Justin sighed.

“Work tomorrow, huh? Back to the grind.”

“Only it’s not not nearly as fun as your choice of words makes it sound.” Justin smiled as he swirled his paintbrush through a glass of water to rinse off the color.

They talked for a few more minutes, and Justin counted four noisy yawns coming from the Pittsburgh end of the line before he said, “Alright, go to bed, old man.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

At least he could get Brian to return the phrase now without hesitation.

That night, they slept in their separate beds, in separate apartments, in separate cities. And Justin wished he felt like he could go back to Pittsburgh without feeling like a dog coming home with its tail between its legs, or like he’d let down everyone who believed he could do this. Brian included.

For the next three days, Justin felt like he was just going through the motions. Meeting with gallery owners, managers, and other people who would essentially decide whether or not he was worthy of having the opportunity to be a success. Agreeing to a new commission from some bored housewife with more money than sense -- a portrait of her prized standard poodle. Oh well, it was money.

On Wednesday, he hadn’t painted a single stroke all day, just one meeting after another, hustling to try to make something -- anything -- happen. By the time he made it home, he was ready to collapse onto the sofa and call Brian.

“Hey,” Brian answered. “Right on time.”

“Yep...God what a day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I never thought I’d say I missed school, but...I do. At least then I got to paint or draw or otherwise create for most of the day. These fucking meetings are just...bullshit. A million galleries in this city, and a million asses to kiss. All so they might agree to let people see my work.”

“Ah, see, that’s the beauty of owning your own company...there’s no bosses’ ass to kiss. Just the clients.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not quite there yet, asshole. You’ve got about 12 years on me, career wise, remember?”

“And a fucking college degree,” Brian reminded him.

“I know, I know.”

“So, this honesty thing goes both ways. Tell me how things are really going in New York.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. I want the real story and not the highlight reel. Is it what you thought it would be?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought it would be.”

“Are you happy?”

“I guess so. I like what I’m doing. I like getting to put my work out there for others to enjoy and appreciate. I wish I could do more of what I want to do instead of what other people want to pay me to do, but that’s how you make money I guess.”

“Welcome to adulthood. You’ve officially sold your soul for a buck.”

“Hmm. Maybe so.”

Justin could hear Brian breathing on the other end of the line, but not saying anything, for several seconds. He could also hear what sounded like a pen clicking over and over.

“You okay?” Justin asked.

“Yeah. Just thinking. I, uh...I was talking to Ted...and… Okay, well, I’m just going to say it. I think I’d like to move to New York.”

“What?” Justin said, not believing what he was hearing. “But what about Kinnetik?”

“That’s what I was talking to Ted about. If he thought I could work remotely. And, you know, fly back when I’m needed in person.”

“Planning to make friends with more handsy-ass flight attendants?”

Brian laughed. “Yeah. Next time I’ll smack them. Or run over their toes on my way out.”

“Have you told Michael you’re thinking about this? He’ll freak the fuck out.”

“Yes, and yes. But he’ll get over it. He always does. He knows he can’t live without me, so he can’t be mad for too long.”

“So humble, Mr. Kinney.”

“Anyway, I’m not doing it unless you’re okay with it. I’m not making this decision for both of us. So what do you think?”

“You actually think I’d tell you not to come? Of course I think you should come! I’d love to have you here.”

“I need a fresh start. I need to be somewhere that people aren’t judging me and comparing me to who I used to be. I need someplace that I can settle into being who I am now, without the past coming back to haunt me at every turn. I need to feel like I can just be me. And figure out who that is now. I think I can do that there.”

“So, where do I fit in?” Justin asked, genuinely curious, if not a little afraid of what the answer would be. He knew Brian needed to do so much of this for himself. He respected that. And God did he know exactly how that felt. But, selfishly, he also knew he didn’t want to give up being a part of Brian’s life again. He’d learned his lesson there.

“Wherever you want to be… Partner?”

Maybe their two separate chapters could still come together into one after all. A little bit different than the original would have been, but still a masterpiece-in-progress.


End file.
